My career in the strip club industry has changed over the years, undeniably for the better. I fondly recall my first job in the industry which was actually the chef at a high end club. I didn't start out as a Floor Guy, I worked my way out from the kitchen like a fat, lazy caterpillar that took it's sweet time transforming into a butterfly.
A fat, lazy, asshole butterfly.
But I was destined to become a Floor Host, it was written into my genetic code. My family's men have been stripperherders all the way back from when the Vikings burned all the Saxon strip clubs down and opened their own. Clubs such as The Gold Wolf, Alla's Valhalla, Enthrallment and the Spearmint Cave Bear all claim to be the the very first Viking titty bars opened on Albion, but the historical records are far from complete and frequently conflict in opinion.
My ancestor, Bjolf Bastardsson, was a Floor Guy at Enthrallment from 796 to 798, when he one day slaughtered its inhabitants and burned it to the ground. He was working at the Gold Wolf the very next day and no one said a thing. Probably because of the fucking axe he carried. His giant, fucking axe.
By all accounts Viking strip clubs were pretty lively places. They were nothing at all like modern day concepts of the gentlemen's club's or the corner titty bar you grew up down the street from. No, clubs back in those days were.......unregulated and sort of boisterous in a casual murder sort of way. Lots of people died in them, every night, and sometimes it was the dancers.
Look at how much progress we've made: nowadays you can't even bring a throwing axe into a titty bar, much less chuck it at a random dancer. That's what I call social benevancement*1.
Oddly enough, in Viking times slaying a dancer would invariably incur a fine. If the dancer had been a free woman, stripping to feed her kids, then her killer would have to pay weregild. And if she had been a thrall, forced to dance to feed someone else's kids, then her killer would've had to pay whorgild. Vikings were very abiding about that sort of thing; they'd pay a fair price for what/who they slew.
Unfortunately for titty fans everywhere the rise of Christianity ruined everything for everybody, which is essentially all you need to know about Christianity-it ruins everything, for everybody, all the time. Christians brought about the notion that the female body was something to be ashamed of and hidden, rather than worshiped and venerated like in so many pagan faiths that preceded it.
Vikings loved the female form, they idolatized and revered it. Bitches and Bitch Futures were commodities that were traded regularly on the Viking Stock Exchange. The seafaring practice of mounting a figurehead on the front of a ship evolved from the Viking practice of dragon and beast-head prows. Someone decided that dragons were kinda scary, so why not slap a set of tits up there instead? Everyone loves tits. Seemed like a no-brainer.
But as the followers of Christ gradually subsumed the Viking culture, the Church shut down all of the titty bars, citing hygienic reasons such as females were dirty and evil and shit, or females didn't have a dick. Therefore since most of the records from the time were kept by Christian Priests, many of whom were rabid cockhounds, no mention is ever made of the rowdy, mead soaked cooze-halls of the Vikings.
Such a shame.
Meet Some More Of The Team, Part Six
Wendy McCalluff: This gal used to be a stripper back in the day, but then allowed a wanted criminal to impregnate her, causing a condition known as 'offspring'. So when Wendy became too waddly to dance anymore she became a Doorgirl, because being greeted by an ominously pregnant girl is what every patron dreams of.
Wendy sloughed the pup and after a week so returned to work the door, a bit too plump to consider going back to the stage any time soon. Then after the infant had matured for a couple of months, Wendy begins to show up at the club on her nights off wiff all her BFF's; drunk as fuck and wearing stretchy clothes she must've needed a running start to get into.
This wasn't an issue until she started calling off about once a week, just because she wanted to go out that night or was hungover from the night before. I'm not being judgemental about morals here, new baby or not do what you want to do. It's 'Murrika after all.
But professionally your decision to call off every 3rd or 4th shift causes chaos in my continuum due to inadequate Doorgirl reserves and I can't believe Management hasn't fired your for your bullshit yet.
She has actually called off sick from work and then showed up at the club all fucked up with her little suburban 'posse' in tow more than once, and yet still has a job.
Ivana Poutvainly: Our former Soviet Bloc ice princess bartender. She has the most amazingly chiseled resting bitch face I have ever seen. It's like the all the Plagues of Jordan are upon her and she doesn't drive a $70,000 Mercedes around; frowning out luxury windows at an absence of T-34 tanks crushing partisan fighters in her name....
But she's hot as shit. Sex with her would be like a war that any man would be happy to lose.
Cerebro Pummelot: Cerebro is a generic name referring to human douche machines who insinuate themselves into the club security industry. These idiots are dangerous, thoughtless and destined to extinction through lawyers, but still manage to find a niche somewhere in desperate security details everywhere.
By all that's holy, I think I've done enough despite the CONSTANT DISTRACTIONS that life puts me through. This is it. I'm done and ordering pizza.
Nubs you all,
-The StripperHerder.
*1 Benevancement: A word I just made up which is short for 'beneficial advancement', or a nice way of saying we kill each other less often and feel worse about it than we used to in times past.
*2 This is an example of successful editing. What I had originally wrote was much too vulgar to print in this discerning blog.**
**I'm still slightly ashamed by what I did write. But that happens fairly often in this
